


I know where the nightmares sleep

by ABroodyGay



Series: Magic Moments (Pupcake Prompts) [2]
Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: ANGST OF THE HIGHEST DEGREE, Child Abuse, F/F, Minor Character Death, POW Camps, Pre-Canon, WWII mention, but also fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 06:11:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6144097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABroodyGay/pseuds/ABroodyGay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Where did you grow up Pats?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I know where the nightmares sleep

**Author's Note:**

> prompt from http://cynicalrainbows.tumblr.com/: How Patsy told Delia about her childhood

You have the room next to hers. The walls are so thin you can whisper goodnight to each other and you press your lips to the same spot every night and pretend it is her lips or her cheek.

You know she has nightmares. You know the nights they torment her, you can hear her sobbing and calling out in a strange garbled language in the early hours, see the dark circles the next morning, the tightness in her smile.

You get to see sides of Patience Mount that no-one else does. How she looks in profile against a moonlit night at the docks, the mischief that sparkles in her eyes when you sneak back into the nurses home, the way her eyes soften when she looks at you so tenderly it makes you heart ache. And yet you can’t bring yourself to ask her about her night terrors. You wish you could...it’s like some ghastly unspoken secret between the two of you.

* * *

 

You’re on your usual bench, on the docks, eating in companionable silence. Secluded but not so secluded you can’t hear the hustle and bustle of London behind you, your usual fish and chip suppers on your laps. She drowns hers in vinegar and you don’t know how she can eat it and you wrinkle your nose when she offers you her last chip. You finally decide to ask a question that you’ve been dying to ask her, ever since you told her of days exploring streams and derelict monasteries in Wales with your brothers.

“Where did you grow up Pats?” There is a long uncomfortable pause.

“I was born in Singapore.” She has the curiously blank look on her face she reserves for when Matron is giving them all a lecture. Slightly haughty yet timid. Entirely impossible to read.

“Gosh, you must have had some adventures! It puts my homely country life in Pembrokeshire to sha-” You stop when you realise she isn’t listening to you. “Patsy, are you alri-” she stands up abruptly and tosses the newspaper from her supper in the bin.

“It’s getting late. We should be getting back.” You frown up at her in confusion and check your watch. “It’s barely seven o’clock. We’ve snuck in before we can do it again.” You reach for her hand but she snatches away like she’s been scalded. “Well you can stay here if it matters that much to you but I’m going back.” She has never spoken to you like this before. It’s cold and sharp and you don’t like it one bit. But before you can open your mouth to retort she has turned sharply on her heel and started walking briskly up the shortcut to the main road.

You let her go and watch her turn the corner with a sigh.

Walking back slowly, you look for the light in her window but you can see it’s off. You slip in and creep up the stairs holding your breath out of habit when you pass Matrons room. You get ready for bed quickly and tap lightly on the wall.

“Pats...are you awake?” No answer. She must be asleep. You press your lips against the usual spot and wish that she has an undisturbed night.

* * *

 

_“Onegaishimasu! Masaka! Sore wa itai! Watashi wa futatabi sore o okonau koto wa arimasen!”_

Her soft cries wake you with a jolt.

_“Onegaishimasu! Mō iya! Mummy, make them stop!”_

You are out of bed in three seconds and in her room in five more.

“Patsy, _Patsy_ , wake up!” You grip her shoulder and shake her gently terrified you'll scare her further.

For a few moments she sobs, curled up in a ball on the bed before you see her eyes flicker open, she moves away from you, still shuddering, eyes red and puffy, hair sticking to her face.

“D-delia I-”

“Shhh. It’s alright sweetheart. I’m here.” You hold your hand out to her and with trembling fingers she takes it. For the next ten minutes you say nothing but brush your thumb over the back of her hand, watch as her shoulders tense with suppressed sobs. “You don’t have to tell me. But..but maybe you should. My mam always says a problem shared is a problem halved.”

She closes her eyes and you watch her jaw tighten a little. “You don’t want to hear my sob story. It’s not pretty.” You move a little closer to her now. “I don’t care. I love you.” She looks up at you suddenly, eyes wide and surprised. You’ve been meaning to say it for months but tonight has pushed you to finally admit it. You tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

“I love you..and I want to know everything about you. Even the painful things.” She takes a deep shuddering breath. “Alright. I’ll tell you.” She turns to face you, eyes locked on your intertwined fingers.

“Like I said I was born in Singapore. My father was a shipbroker. My sister and I had every luxury a little girl could want...my mother threw the best parties in the whole city, they went on for hours from the evening until the next morning. My sister and I used to creep out used to sit on the stairs and watch. Beautiful gowns, champagne, dancing.”

She squeezes your hand a little harder apparently steeling herself. “We seemed to be untouched by the war. We knew it was happening. Lots of our friends up and left. Fled back to England. We were fools and stayed.” You watch her bite her lip and you know this is when the fairy tale stops and the nightmare begins.

“When I was nine, my father was arrested by the Japanese and my mother, sister and I were herded into a cattle truck with hundreds of other women and children and taken to a POW camp.” You only know a little about the war in Japan, remember sneaking downstairs with your brothers to listen to the wireless,you remember the celebrations of VJ day. The knowledge that the war was finally over. But you knew nothing of the horror you knew Patsy was about to tell you.

“It...it was hell on earth Delia. The guards confiscated medicine sent from the Red Cross, the food rations were barely enough to keep a rat alive let alone a human. We resorted to boiling banana skins, eating our sleeping mats. We were infested with bugs and lice, we cut off all our hair, just to be free of the itching.” Her eyes squeeze shut, tears slipping down her face. She takes a deep gulp of air and you can tell it’s taking every bit of her resolve to keep going.

“You could be punished for the slightest misdemeanour. Once I forgot to bow to an officer. He-” She squeezes your hand again, so tight it almost hurts. “He pushed me to the floor and beat me for what felt like hours. I screamed and begged him to stop, called for my mother.But she was powerless.” The tears are falling thick and fast now. But still she keeps talking.

“I was there three years. My sister who was five contracted typhoid from our mother and died in my arms. My mother followed a week later. I spent the rest of my time helping to nurse the sick and wounded. By some miracle both my father and I survived. The day the allied forces walked into our camp was the day my life started again.”

Somehow she is still talking, but her voice is thick and you can tell it is costing her dearly to keep going. “But my father was a changed man. He never looked at me the same way again.We had been through too much to be the same as we were.He went to Australia and packed me off to boarding school here. He sends me money when I ask for it and cards at Christmas and on my birthday.”

You say nothing. There is nothing to say.

So you hold her, wrap your arms around her and swear that you would never let anyone hurt her again. She stays rigid in your arms for a few seconds and then her shoulders relax and her tears are soaking into your nightdress.

You press your lips against her hair and whisper _I love you, I love you, I love you_ until she falls asleep.

* * *

 

She sleeps better now though some nights you wake to her sliding into bed with you, cheeks wet as she clings to you with desperate fingers. And still you kiss her hair and whisper _I love you._

Except now she whispers it back

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry I guess?
> 
> Translation:  
> “Onegaishimasu! Masaka! Sore wa itai! Watashi wa futatabi sore o okonau koto wa arimasen!” (Please! No! It hurts! I won't do it again!)
> 
> “Onegaishimasu! Mō iya!" (Please! No More!)
> 
> Title is from "Nightmares" by Josh Ritter


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